


a wild raging ocean

by lieselss



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Post-War, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieselss/pseuds/lieselss
Summary: Zuko has humbled himself before but nothing compared to now, begging for a miracle from the very spirits his countrymen tried to kill.Or the affection between the Fire Lord and the last waterbender of the Southern Tribe in the face of a fragile peace.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	a wild raging ocean

His memory of the week after the Agni Kai is in flashes, like the pictogram Uncle had brought from Ba Sing Se as a child. Turn the wheel and new image popped into the scope, turn in fast enough and you could get through the whole story in minutes.

His images were all shades of blue— blue lightning, blue clothing, blue water, blue eyes.

The carousel flickers in his minds eyes long after the blue has faded from his daily life.

_________________

People stop along the canals and lean out of windows watching incredulously the scene before them.

The flash of red is stark against the smooth white architecture as the Fire Lord himself hurries through the frozen streets, an unconscious figure bundled in his arms, wrapped in similarly warm colors. On his heels trails a tall broad man in elaborate furs, similar but distinct to their own, guiding a petite young woman clutching at his arm.

"Is that?"

"Spirits above!"

"Even in peacetime, nothing ever good ever comes from the spirits damned place."

"The South cozies up to their decimators, and then daring to bring their problems here."

The Northern Chief frowns as he ushers the delegation inside.

“Chief Arnook, I—“ the Fire Lord starts, panic resting on the edge of his voice. He’s met the man several times before, at the pageantry of various summits over the years. He bore his title well, with confidence and severity beyond his years. But in this moment he looks desperately young. 

He recognizes the other man as the son of the Southern Chief. Last time he'd seen him he was a gangly teenager. Now he was a young man, looking increasingly like his father. 

He rests a hand on his shoulder and the Fire Lord quiets. “I understand we are barging in without much notice,” the younger man says. “And the North has given both her Southern Sister and the Fire Nation much appreciated assistance and congeniality these past five years, despite our current snags in negotiation. But I ask in a personal capacity, on behalf of my father and in your daughter’s memory, please allow her to help my sister.”

His voice cracks on the final word. 

The woman in Fire Lord’s arms is deathly pale. She’s swathed in layers of furs and blankets, her face barely visible. Her hair drapes over his arm, chestnut braids and beads of blues and silvers against the black and gold of the Fire Nation robes. He holds her tightly, as though she may disappear on him. Chief Arnook wonders briefly how much of the rumor mill is, in fact, rumor.

When the Fire Lord adjusts his arms, he notices the beading closest to her temple. An array of silvers, from crescent slivers to rounds disks. Carved bone, with the same symbols of the Southern Tribe that her brother wears on his parka. Clay, with the insignia of each the four nations, representing her ambassadorship. And lastly, painted in blue and white, the mark of the brave.

He thinks first of the backlash from his people.

But he thinks second of his daughter.

The world, especially now, is in desperate need of brave young women.

“We should hurry.”

_________________

He's humbled himself before. Most of his life had been a rod to the back of his knees until he lowered himself to humility.

None of it compared to now, in the warm humidity of the place where he stole the Avatar, asking for mercy from the very spirits his fellow countrymen tried to kill.

If Toph weren’t holding him upright, he’s afraid he would truly pass out. 

_"Ay, I have a surprise for you!"_

_"Toph, I swear if it involves flying mud again I beg you wait until—"_

_"Does he always complain so much?" a new voice asked. He knew that voice._

_"Katara! You're early!"_

_"Am I unwelcome, Fire Lord?" she teased, eyebrow raised._

_"The Ambassador to the Southern Tribe is always welcome at the palace," he replied, exaggerating a deep bow. "This is much better surprise than usual, Toph.”_

_“Hey, don’t be ungrateful, Sparky."_

Sokka helps the healer, a gray haired old woman, lower Katara into the waters of the Spirit Oasis. Zuko stays as far away as possible, hugging the cavern walls. The Chief may have let bygones be bygones when he granted him entry but Zuko thinks spirits are more prone to grudges. Much like the girl he's desperate for them to help.

If she didn't—

He can't go down that path. He won't.

Katara's hair fans out around her like a crown in the dark water. Sokka bows his head over his sister, palms uplifted as the healer mutters quietly over her body, her eyes closed. Praying, Zuko realizes, looking around the Oasis, every figure in blue's head is bowed reverently, including Chief Arnook.

This is more than healing— this is supplication. It's a tradition foreign to him yet familiar all the same. The hair on his skin stands on end, the memory of the Sun Warrior's temple grafting itself onto the glacial cavern walls around him.

The diametric koi seem to finally notice their guest, breaking their dance. The temperature seems to drop several degrees as they do. The pale fish swims broadly while the darker one approaches Katara. The healer's prayer stumbles briefly, her eyes widening, before quickly picking up again.

The water begins to glow around Katara, a metallic shimmer. It's dark, so unlike the sky blue tint he would have expected and recognized from her healing. It's the color of moonlight shining off the ocean's surface. Otherworldly.

Sokka frowns, lifting his head to look toward the sky. The Chief meets his gaze, worry furrowing his brow. The healer remains firmly focused on Katara, lowering her head beneath the surface for what feels like many moments too long.

_Katara snatched the drink from his hands before he could protest, laughing brightly at his glare. She spun out of his reach, the numerous beads of the deep navy dress rustling pleasantly as she moved._

_"My first day as the Southern Tribe's newest ambassador to the Fire Nation and I already have the Fire Lord at my beck and call! Someone tell Aang he can retire, I've solved world peace!"_

_"Your first day is technically tomorrow, Sugar Queen."_

_"Actually, it's technically whenever Aang arrives so we can actually start the summit," he told the group. Sokka groaned. "He's delayed, the letter just arrived."_

_He wondered if he imagined the irritation that flashed across Katara's face. They'd never talked about what happened between her and Aang but based on the reaction he can only assume it was tied to the airbender's Avatar duties. To be fair, he'd ignored her worried letters about the very public dissolution of his own engagement, responding instead with idle chatter on literally any other subject._

_But now she'd be based here and they'd have plenty of time to talk, over tea rather than parchment. His chest warmed at the prospect and Toph shot him a knowing look. He discreetly stomped the ground in response, the movement disguised by his formal robes._

_Katara recovered quickly, raising her stolen glass. "Well then here's to sleeping off our hangovers in the morning!" she toasted, taking a long drink from the glass. Zuko snatched his half empty glass back._

_"Some of us still have jobs to do in the morning," he said, smiling._

_"Sounds like it sucks to be you, Sparky," Toph said._

_"Yeah, Zuko. Shucks ta b..." Katara's speech slurred. Her eyes went wide and she lunged clumsily toward him, knocking the glass out of his hand._

_"Damn it, Katara, what the Agni’s na—" he started, stopping cold as he took her in. Her legs gave out beneath her and he managed to catch her as she fell, his hand snagging on her dress and sending silver beads skittering everywhere. Her pupils were blown and blood had begun to pool in the corner of her lip._

_"Everybody put down your glasses!" Sokka bellowed to the party at large, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on stone, knocked to the ground by a myriad of flying pebbles. Toph fell to her knees across from him while Sokka shouted for help._

_"What's happening?! Her heartbeat is slowing way too fast!"_

_"Katara!" he nearly shouted, shaking her gently. Her head lolled back against his elbow, her hand grasping weakly at the arm of the his robes._

_"Zu—" she rasped, voice trailing off after the first syllable._

_"I got you."_

The poison had been meant for him. Not his first assassination attempt, not even close, but the palace had gone to its highest alert and the annual summit dissolved before it began. Behind the clear and present danger, he worries whether the nations can weather the breakdown of communication.

The shimmering fades and the black fish swims back to it's partner, resuming their dance. Katara is dragged back to shore and her chest rattles as she coughs up pond water. The healer smiles thinly, bending a long stream of bloody water from her mouth and tosses to the furthest corner of the Oasis.

She nods toward Sokka, "She needs to rest." 

"But she'll be okay?" Toph asks from their corner, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. Her grip on his arm has relaxed slightly and Zuko hopes she knows something he doesn't.

The healer glances from the pond to the sky to Katara, expression unreadable. "Master Katara appears to have been blessed by La, but yes, I think she will survive."

The 'but' is profoundly unsettling.

Zuko’s feet feel frozen to the ground as their group files out. A severe looking Northern Tribe solider looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to exit.

"I- I need a moment." he says, hurrying— never running, royalty doesn’t run (except when their closest friend is convulsing in the arms and the last time they felt this kind of fear they were leaping in front of a bolt of lightning and maybe it’s time to acknowledge why that might be) toward the pond. The fish don't notice his presence, of course not. He feels ridiculous, the solider watching him carefully.

But he has to do something.

He presses his fist to his palm, bowing deep and low. It's was a bow to be given to a monarch, not from one. It's the most respectful thing he can think of.

"Thank you," he whispers, unsure if he's talking to Tui or La. 

The soldier clears his throat meaningfully and Zuko hurries out of the Oasis.

_________________

_| She's alive.  
_ _| Tell Aang we'll have Appa home before the week's end.  
_ _| Stay safe, I love you.  
_ _| -Sokka_

He hands the note to the messenger waiting outside the door. He'll send a follow up in the morning, before they leave.

He settles against the foot of the bed, staring blearily at the door. He feels like he should cry. He wanted to cry when he'd helped carry his sister into Appa's familiar saddle. He'd wanted to cry when Aang had surrendered the reins and promised to remain in the Caldera with Suki and Iroh. He'd wanted to cry the entire journey here but fear was the emotion that won out. He wants to cry now, tears of relief, like Toph had. Instead the anxiety remains firmly twined around his heart, a barbarous rope. 

Blessed by La.

No one is blessed by La— La is to be respected, yes, but she is Yin. She's dark and cold and unpredictable as her realm. She's unbridled power. She's to be feared.

She saved Katara's life.

_Where were you, Yue?_ he wonders. _Why couldn't you help her instead?_

He supposes he should just be grateful the spirits didn't take Katara too. He's not sure if he could lose another person he loved to the spirits that were supposed to protect his people.

_It shouldn't even be a worry,_ a meaner part of his brain thinks. _This should have been Zuko._

It's a cruel thought he regrets immediately. His friend hasn't looked anything but shattered since that glass broke on the courtyard floor. He sighs, pulling himself off the floor and grabs the plainest parka he can find. He doesn't want to be a representative of the Southern Water Tribe tonight, he's not looking for an audience with the Fire Lord.

He's a brother, looking for a friend.

_________________

Zuko starts at the knock on the door.

"Zuko, it's me."

The door opens to reveal Sokka, holding two mugs of something steaming. 

"I don't think it's going to be as good as your uncle's but—"

"No, uh, come in sorry," Zuko says, pulling out the chair to desk and accepting the warm beverage. "Toph is with her, so there's someone familiar if she wakes up, I didn't think it would do any good to have the Fire Lord sitting vigil in her room after our frosty reception," he explains, thinking of the whispers on the streets. Sokka sighs. Tensions were rising between the two tribes heading into the summit and Sokka had hoped to resolve them. The South needed the North's waterbenders but also needed iron clad trade agreements with the Fire Nation in order to rebuild. The Northern ambassador found the increasing diplomatic closeness an affront to his tribe and the feeling was only exacerbated by the personal relationships between the South's war heroes and the Fire Lord.

In short, a mess.

"Well, I think you already played your hand there buddy," Sokka says.

"What?"

"You care for her."

"Of course I care for her! She's a close friend and she saved my life—"

"Zuko," Sokka says, looking at him in disbelief. "You _care_ for her. The assassin failed to get you and you still looked as though he'd run you through with a sword. You haven't left her side once until now. How could anyone not see it?"

"I— I—" he stammers for an explanation. _Any_ explanation. The selfish disappointment he'd felt when she'd left the Fire Nation the first time, to follow the Avatar. How he'd felt unexplained relief when Mai broke off their engagement— in a letter, no less. The terrible jolt of satisfaction when Aang told him they'd broken up. The reams and reams of parchment spent on letters between South Pole and the Fire Nation. His excitement when she was appointed as the newest Ambassador for her tribe.

Who wouldn't want to be their closest friend's confident, to see them happy and healthy and successful?

(His heart knows that's a lie, even if his brain doesn't)

"I think," Sokka says carefully, "That Toph could use some rest. And Katara deserves to have someone who cares looking out for her—"

Zuko tries to protest but Sokka silences him. 

"—Whether as a good friend or something else. It's the least someone could do for the person who inadvertently saved their life."

_"You stupid self-sacrificing idiot!"_

_He rubbed his eyes, limbs lethargic. Katara was on the foot of his bed, a drop of blue in the sea of red, looking as exhausted as he felt._

_"Sorry?"_

_She launched herself over his legs, hugging him around his waist, careful to avoid the white bandages wrapped neatly around his chest._

_"You saved my life," she said, disentangling herself from him and immediately set to work fussing over his bandages. Vaguely, he wondered whether any other healers had been allowed within five feet of him._

_"You saved mine too," he countered. She shot him a look equal parts irritation and softness._

_"Then let's call it even?_

_________________

The Water Tribe Ambassador's quarters are more elaborate than his own, no doubt an intentional screw you meant for any Fire Nation official, not just him. It's the kind of subtle purely political disrespect he was raised in and grown familiar with once again— too shallow a bow, robes too informal for the circumstance, tardiness to certain ministers and advisors.

Candle light warms the detailed tapestries along the walls and seal skin and polar bear furs are soft under his feet. Katara is bundled on the massive bed, thick furs piled around her. Someone had unbraided her hair and it spilled messily over the pillow. Color had finally begun to to return to her face.

He settles into the chair Toph had left, playing with the end of his sleeve. The reflection of the last time they'd been like this doesn't go unnoticed. Of course, last time she'd held his life in her hands. This time his hands rest uselessly just under his ribs, above the second familial scar to mark his body.

He pulls his robes tighter around his body, a drop of red in a sea of blue and white, and closes his eyes, lulled by the sound of Katara's blessedly steady breathing.

_She found him on the balcony overlooking the long courtyard, weaving through his room with the confidence of familiarity._ _Her blue skirt swirled around her legs with her stride, every movement like the ocean itself._

_"Since when do you wear skirts?"_

_"Since Suki taught me how to fight in them and I was told is was more 'fitting of my position'," she said with a groan. "Pants are apparently good enough for saving the world, but not for politics."_

_"Mhm, now I do actually remember Sokka having a horrendously difficult time in trousers."_

_Katara laughs, peering over the edge of the balcony, "I'll be sure to suggest it to him if I can pry him away from Suki's face."_

_"Gross."_

_She shrugged, leaning against the railing as she turned to face him. "I can't promise I'm going to be the same Ambassador as Sokka. He always was the better politician."_

_"You're your own person, I wouldn't expect anything less," he agreed. "Although if you can try and not scare away any of my ministers that would probably be best. They're already on edge, you know. Your reputation proceeds you," he teased. She rolled her eyes._

_"And what reputation is that?" she asked, arms crossed._

_"Ardent, stubborn, intimidating. Blunt, likes to get her way. Whip smart, incredible bender. Compassionate and empathetic. A good ally who gives even better advice," he said, voice softening at each attribute. She held his look unwaveringly._

_"Ally?"_

_"Friend."_

_"Are these other people's observations or yours?"_

_He froze at the question. He told her all this before, written in script traded over half a decade. But saying it aloud was different, admitting to it felt like the last barrier before the edge of a cliff. He hedged instead._

_"Why can't it be both?"_

_She tossed her arms up in mock annoyance. "Zuko."_

"Zuko."

The voice that stirs him from his sleep is like broken glass. The room is dark, and he relights the torches with a flick of wrist. The pile of blankets flinches and he dims them, apologizing. He kneels next the bed. Katara's arm covers her face as she adjusts to the low light.

"Should I get someone?"

"No," she rasps, lowering her arm and reaching out for his hand. He takes it without hesitation. Her skin is cold despite the warmth of the furs. "I'm glad you're here," she says turning her head toward him.

She looks at him and he stills.

The eyes he meets are not the familiar soft blue of his pictogram memories or his dreams but the ocean's surface in moonlight— dark and shimmering.

Otherwordly.

_Blessed by La._

**Author's Note:**

> A bad habit borne out of my favorite type of fics, this story starts somewhat in the middle. So there will continue to be a bit of timeline jumping, both backward and forward though I promise to make it as clear as possible. This will be a primarily zutara story set against a turbulent political back drop (influenced heavily by the LOK Water Tribe civil war plot, though this AU disregards LOK canon). 
> 
> I have the story sketched out but consistent updates probably won't come until I finish [war is never cheap dear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128371/chapters/66246280) (I swear that's almost done!)
> 
> And as always thanks for reading :)


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